Off today on a train to Bari, then another train to Matera. I boarded the train noted on the big departure sign in the Rome Termini station. When I looked for coach no. 7 per my electronic ticket, I discovered there was no coach no. 7. A train employee told me that my train had already left. But how could this happen? I couldn’t believe it!
I still had 5 minutes to catch the correct train, but this man insisted that the train that matched my ticket had already left the station, and I had to buy another ticket if I wanted to get to Bari on the train I was on. Of course, I was suspicious. The new ticket actually cost more than my electronic ticket, plus this train got into Bari 2 hours later. How could I have missed seeing my train on the departure board? But I had to roll with it.
I stayed on the slow train. After my initial upset with the ticket, I settled into a seat only to be joined by three Italian women going from Rome to Cosenza. Apparently the thought that not everyone appreciates the use of scented products has not taken hold here, as all three reeked of something sweet and pungent.
They ate cakes and talked almost the whole time of things to eat and recipe details, plus how to win a contest on their cell phones that would get them thousands of dollars a month and what they would do if they won…..spa visits, jewelry, a life of luxury.
I had much fun watching their hand gestures as they got excited about winning and listened as they pondered strategy – using the same number over and over or changing numbers each day. You, too, can Win for Life.
Although I’d been in Bari decades ago, I don’t recall going through this part of Italy: the snow capped mountains behind Frosinone, the towns of Cosenza, Foggia. It’s spring, the grass is green, the mustard golden, and the fruit trees are bursting purple-pink and white blossoms. So much agriculture, it reminds me of Santa Clara Valley way back when.
The three women got off at Cosenza, and more passengers boarded, including an older woman, a student and a younger man who started up a conversation during a long 20-minute stop in Foggia. Somehow we got on the topic of Milan. They agreed that those Milanese are not like Southerners. All they do work. Everything for them is rapido. They eat fast and, heaven forbid, they work at home! The young man said that each part of a meal must have its time. Enjoy. Savor. Those Milanese and also the Torinese live horrible lives. They don’t even know their neighbors.
I asked, “What about the Genovese?” They wavered a bit, then agreed, “They’re still ok.” Only then I felt safe to mention my family origins.
Finally in Bari, the women became very solicitous and concerned about my welfare, Like mother hens, they pointed out the office of the train that would take me to Matera. One lady pulled the strap of my purse OVER my head. “This is not America!” Ok, senora.
I boarded the train to Matera no problem, but I fell asleep and woke up only when one of the young men in my coach yelled as he shot out the door. I looked out the window and saw the sign “Matera Centrale.” Oops! My stop! I rushed to the door with my baggage, but the doors had closed, the train was moving, and I saw no way to stop it.
I was the only passenger on the dark, empty train at this point, no staff in sight, and I had no way of knowing where the train was headed. After about 5 minutes – it seemed like an eternity – the train stopped at a place called “Matera Sud.” The doors opened, and I explained to the three young men on the platform who looked like they might be train employees that I had overslept and missed my stop.
They pointed to an overpass about 50 yards away and told me to use it to get over to the other side of the tracks. I asked about an elevator. Nope. One of them saw my grave situation with baggage and offered to bring my bags across the tracks while I crossed using the passageway.
Rain pouring down, I rushed over to the passageway, holding on tight to the metal railing to avoid sliding on the wet steps, all the time worrying that the train might leave without me with my baggage on it, or the man might take off with my baggage (my iPad!) or I would slip and break some bones.
Back on the platform my very caring hero showed me my bags on the train and helped me aboard. Turned out he was the train conductor. I tried to get a photo of him as he waved good-bye, but I was only able to catch the train.
Now finally in Matera, I needed the phone number of my B&B. A kind girl in the train station waiting room called the number for me. Another young man in the waiting room walked me in the pouring rain to the nearest ATM. The bountiful kindness of strangers.
Tiziana from the B&B picked me up and took me up into the Sassi. An astounding site, this Matera. Tiziana and her husband Domenico own the La Corte dei Pastori. With only three rooms, it’s a very intimate and friendly experience with rooms in caves located beneath a rock church of the Madonna de Idris.
My room was once part of a 7th century monastery, thus the crosses in the cave walls.
Glad to arrive and excited to explore tomorrow. Matera is remote but is well worth the considerable effort to get here.